The plague (No Comments)

I work with 6 year olds and so, not surprisingly, they have coughed/sneezed in my face once too often and successfully transmitted the plague to me.

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I’ve been laying in my bed for the past five days, propped up with pillows, not covered by any blankets.  And yes, it may be February but the bedroom window is wide open because between the fever and my menopausal hot flashes, I feel like I’ve been stuck in a sauna.

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This has been the least of my problems.

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While being super weak with influenza, bronchitis and sinus/throat infection, I have not been getting out of my bed and going downstairs in search of food and drink.  I’ve been busy feeling sorry for myself in between exhausting fits of coughing and asthma attacks. For sustenance, I have relied on my children to attend to me.

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Which explains why I have lost a full 7 pounds in five days.  Because even though my two eldest children have been home from school because of exams, they have been very busy sleeping in and keeping in touch with their friends all day long.

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After the second day of being ignored, I gathered enough energy and staggered into the hall to yell at them for being self centred and uncaring.  I wanted to tell them that they would be sorry when I am dead, but I didn’t (this time).

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Then they felt guilty and after a horrifying bronchitis/asthma fit brought on by my rage, offers of tea in my favourite Ikea cup and cut up oranges started coming my way.  This was the best they could do, but it’s actually all I wanted.

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I’ve warned them all that after I have successfully shared the plague with them, they will not see me again until they are completely recovered.  They can expect the same level of care from me as they showed to me…Now don’t think me entirely cold hearted.   I have warned them to begin stockpiling non-perishables in their rooms for the days when they are too weak to get out of bed.  Bottles of water would be a good place to start.

Daughter Love (No Comments)

I have written about my teenaged daughter  many times, I believe, calling her a ghost on more than one occasion. She was very ghost like, turning on lights, slamming doors, floating around and not talking to anyone.  But now, she has changed.

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My baby girl has come back to me.  She likes us again!  She isn’t yelling at me anymore!  She is laughing and smiling and no, I am 100% certain that she is not on drugs!  Yay us!  I feel like we have been reunited after 3 years of hormone hell and it feels good!

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The only problem is, now she is looking up universities to attend next year.  And they are all far enough away that she won’t be able to continue to live at home.  This makes me sad.

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I just got her back!!  I don’t want her to leave me again!

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Why do they have to grow up?  I wish she was 3 years old again with curly red ringlets framing her face, wearing overalls and hurling forks across Pizza Hut with the arm of a professional baseball player…I would find it funny if we went back in time to relive it, I really would.  Pinky promise.